Forever Darkness Year 2
by DarkestRoseJasmine
Summary: This is Hermione's second year at Hogwarts, and she and her friends are excited. This is the year of the Dark Lord's return, and they play an important role in it. Will they succeed the difficult task? Pureblood Hermione! Slytherin Hermione! Dark Hermione!
1. Chapter 1 Getting Ready

**Well, everyone, Happy New Year! I kept my word when I said I'll publish it at the end of this year, hope you'll enjoy it!**

* * *

 **Chapter One：Getting Ready**

Hermione De Granger was rarely displeased, correction, she had _never_ been so irritated in her entire life, until now, that is. She _hated_ being left out. Yep, to her knowledge, which was plenty, the _adults_ were having a private meeting, a meeting without the interruption of children, or so they call them. It was really so unfair!

Hermione hated it.

The door of the bedroom she was staying in opened, and Draco popped a head in.

"Still sulking?" He smirked at her, and she glared back. He was laughing at her expense! Hermione was not so happy about it.

"Shut it, Malfoy."

"Oh, so it's Malfoy now, is it? What happened to 'dear Draco'?" He teased.

"There was am and will never be a 'dear Draco', Malfoy, so don't get your hopes up."

"Oooh, that _burned_ , and here I thought I was special." He feigned a hurt expression, doing his best puppy dog eyes at her.

"Well obviously, you thought wrong." Hermione retorted dryly.

"Humph."

The bedroom door opened again, and this time Pansy walked in.

"Good news, Mione, they say that we will be going to Diagon Ally tomorrow. You know what _that_ means." She waved the little black book in her hands.

Hermione's eyes widened," you mean… you mean that…"

Blaise suddenly showed up behind Pansy." Yep, that's exactly what they meant, turns out the Weasleys rescued Potter by a flying car Weasel's father invented, and they're all going to Diagon Ally to pick up their school stuff tomorrow. What we do is to somehow slip the diary into little Miss Weasley's cauldron during Lockhart's book signing at Flourish & Blots."

"How did you know all that." Draco asked, amazed. Pansy rolled her eyes at him.

" _Because_ , we were waiting outside the parlor and the Dark Lord told us what to do."

The next day was bleak, dark grey clouds covering the sky, blocking out the rays of sunlight. The four had opted at grey clothing, better for concealing themselves on such a muggy day.

It was about one o'clock when they reached the book shop.

"Gilderoy Lockhart?" Pansy snorted, barely concealing her disgust," don't tell me he's going to give us a lecture again on how to _tame a banche_." The others laughed, remembering the time when their parents had invited him to a tea party, and all he talked about that day was…himself.

"He's not even that good-looking," Hermione said, her nose in the air.

"Then pray tell, dearest Mione, who's good-looking in your mind?" Pansy asked with a sly smile, smirking. The boy's ears perked.

Hermione coloured a little, not enough to be noticed, though." No one."

"Really?" smirked Pansy, her voice tilting just a little, yet enough to get the boys' interest.

"Yes really." Hermione deadpanned, a steely look in her amber eyes. And they headed down the street.

The rooms of Flourish & Blots were blocked full and spilling, hundreds of people squished into that small space, shoulder to shoulder and toe to toe. The four walked around to the back of the shop where the back door was left open for them by Lucius, who had already entered. The back of the shop was completely empty, with all the commotion up at the front. They walked down a dimly lit hall way to the door that is connected to the front of the shop. One by one they entered the shop and stood behind the many bookshelves, listening to the chaos and watching silently through the blanks.

They watched as a reporter from _the prophet_ snapped photos of the golden-haired, blue eyed celebrity, who had the trick of showing all his gleaming white teeth just in one smile. The camera wafted purple smoke over the crowd, the smell isn't too good. The photographer hopped from one foot to another, here to there, snapping shots and busily shouting at the crowd" this is for _the prophet_!" Until he stepped on the large foot of Ronald Weasley.

"Ouch! What the hell!"

Blaise snickered quietly.

"Out of the way, there," he snarled at Ronald, mov ing back to get a bet ter shot. "This is for the Dai ly Prophet —"

"Big deal," said Ronld, rub bing his foot where the pho tog ra pher had stepped on it.

Gilderoy Lock hart heard him. He looked up. He saw Ronald — and then he saw Potter. He stared, blinking like a goldfish. Then he leapt to his feet and pos itive ly shout ed, "It can't be Har ry Pot ter?" Pansy rolled her eyes." Honestly."

The crowd part ed, whis per ing ex cit ed ly; Lock hart dived for ward, seized Potter's arm, and pulled him to the front. The crowd burst in to ap plause. Potter's face burned like a tomato as Lock hart shook his hand for the pho tog ra pher, who was click ing away mad ly, waft ing thick smoke over the Weasleys." I feel so sorry for them." Draco whispered.

"Nice big smile, Har ry," said Lock hart, through his own gleam ing teeth. "To geth er, you and I are worth the front page."

"Yes, the front page of idiocy." Hermione muttered, the others laughed, quietly.

"Having fun, children?" said a voice behind them, they jumped, turned around, their wands drawing from their pockets, to see Lucius, smirking at them, eyes twinckling.

"Father!" Draco yelped.

"It's time to start work, son."

Hermione took the diary from her pocket and handed it to Lucius." Just slip it in," she told him." We'll be outside standing guard, common guys." The three left.

Draco looked at his father," let's do it, father."

"I have faith in you, son." Lucius smirked a little." Common."

* * *

 **Harry Potter's Pov**

When he fi nal ly let go of Har ry's hand, Har ry could hard ly feel his fin gers. He tried to si dle back over to the Weasleys, but Lock hart threw an arm around his shoul ders and clamped him tight ly to his side.

"Ladies and gen tle men," he said loud ly, wav ing for qui et. "What an ex traor di nary mo ment this is! The per fect mo ment for me to make a lit tle an nounce ment I've been sit ting on for some time!

"When young Har ry here stepped in to Flour ish and Blotts to day, he on ly want ed to buy my au to bi og ra phy — which I shall be hap py to present him now, free of charge —" The crowd ap plaud ed again. "He had no idea," Lock hart con tin ued, giv ing Har ry a lit tle shake that made his glass es slip to the end of his nose, "that he would short ly be get ting much, much more than my book, Mag ical Me. He and his school mates will, in fact, be get ting the re al mag ical me. Yes, ladies and gen tle men, I have great plea sure and pride in an nounc ing that this Septem ber, I will be tak ing up the post of De fense Against the Dark Arts teach er at Hog warts School of Witchcraft and Wiz ardry!"

The crowd cheered and clapped and Har ry found him self be ing pre sent ed with the en tire works of Gilderoy Lock hart. Stag ger ing slight ly un der their weight, he man aged to make his way out of the lime light to the edge of the room, where Gin ny was stand ing next to her new caul dron.

"You have these," Har ry mum bled to her, tip ping the books in to the caul dron. "I'll buy my own —"

"Bet you loved that, didn't you, Pot ter?" said a voice Har ry had no trou ble rec og niz ing. He straight ened up and found him self face- to- face with Dra co Mal foy, who was wear ing his usu al sneer.

"Fa mous Har ry Pot ter," said Mal foy. "Can't even go in to a book shop with out mak ing the front page."

"Leave him alone, he didn't want all that!" said Gin ny. It was the first time she had spo ken in front of Har ry. She was glar ing at Mal foy.

"Pot ter, you've got your self a girl friend!" drawled Mal foy. Gin ny went scar let as Ron and Hermione fought their way over, both clutch ing stacks of Lock hart's books.

"Oh, it's you," said Ron, look ing at Mal foy as if he were some thing un pleas ant on the sole of his shoe. "Bet you're sur prised to see Har ry here, eh?"

"Not as sur prised as I am to see you in a shop, Weasley," re tort ed Mal foy. "I sup pose your par ents will go hun gry for a month to pay for all those."

Ron went as red as Gin ny. He dropped his books in to the caul dron, too, and start ed to ward Mal foy, but Har ry and Hermione grabbed the back of his jack et.

"Ron!" said Mr. Weasley, strug gling over with Fred and George. "What are you do ing? It's too crowd ed in here, let's go out side."

"Well, well, well — Arthur Weasley."

It was Mr. Mal foy. He stood with his hand on Dra co's shoul der, sneer ing in just the same way.

"Lu cius," said Mr. Weasley, nod ding cold ly.

"Busy time at the Min istry, I hear," said Mr. Mal foy. "All those raids…I hope they're pay ing you over time?"

He reached in to Gin ny's caul dron and ex tract ed, from amid the glossy Lock hart books, a very old, very bat tered copy of A Be gin ner's Guide to Trans fig ura tion.

"Ob vi ous ly not," Mr. Mal foy said. "Dear me, what's the use of be ing a dis grace to the name of wiz ard if they don't even pay you well for it?"

Mr. Weasley flushed dark er than ei ther Ron or Gin ny.

"We have a very dif fer ent idea of what dis graces the name of wiz ard, Mal foy," he said.

"Clear ly," said Mr. Mal foy, his pale eyes stray ing to Mr. and Mrs. Granger, who were watch ing ap pre hen sive ly. "The com pa ny you keep, Weasley…and I thought your fam ily could sink no low er."

There was a thud of met al as Gin ny's caul dron went fly ing; Mr. Weasley had thrown him self at Mr. Mal foy, knock ing him back ward in to a book shelf. Dozens of heavy spell books came thun der ing down on all their heads; there was a yell of, "Get him, Dad!" from Fred or George; Mrs. Weasley was shriek ing, "No, Arthur, no!"; the crowd stam ped ed back ward, knock ing more shelves over; "Gen tle men, please — please!" cried the as sis tant, and then, loud er than all —

"Break it up, there, gents, break it up —"

Ha grid was wad ing to ward them through the sea of books. In an in stant he had pulled Mr. Weasley and Mr. Mal foy apart. Mr. Weasley had a cut lip and Mr. Mal foy had been hit in the eye by an En cy clo pe dia of Toad stools. He was still hold ing Gin ny's old Trans fig ura tion book. He thrust it at her, his eyes glit ter ing with mal ice.

"Here, girl — take your book — it's the best your fa ther can give you —" Pulling him self out of Ha grid's grip he beck oned to Dra co and swept from the shop, the diary tucked safely in Ginevra Weasley's Transfiguration book.

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 **So, how do you like this one? I hope you'll like it, for I won't be updating the next chapter very soon, the final exams are comming up. :)**

 **~ Jasmine**


	2. Chapter 2 The Night Before

**Happy Spring Festival everyone! The Spring Festival has just passed, and I'm really happy about it. I watched the Spring Festival Gala just last night you know, and into the early ours of this moring. 祝大家新春快乐，万事如意，猪年吉祥！^_^**

* * *

 **Chapter Two: The Night Before**

The night before their return to Hogwarts, Voldemort called them all to his study." Just a private talk about your mission." He had told them. The room was dimly lit, the curtains drawn over a window over-looking the backyard, and the woods beyond. The flames in the fireplace were the only source of light. A shadow reclined in the armchair closest to it, yet shrouded in shadow.

"You called us, my lord." Said Hermione, her knees bending just enough to be noticed, giving a small curtsy.

"Yes, I did. Take a seat." He gave a lazy wave of his wand, the movement fluid, and four armchairs appeared before him." I have something to give you, which might… help you in your mission." A transparent hand passed out four velvet black boxes, and Hermione opened it carefully to reveal a silver ring set with a clear gem stone in the centre, embedded in emerald silks. Hermione could almost _feel_ her friends' confusion radiating off them in waves, as were her feelings at the moment. _Why would the Dark Lord give rings to them as a gift anyway?_

But then Draco had the decency to relieve her of her confusion." May I ask, my lord, what is this?" Fingering the ring, trying to make something out. Voldemort let out a soft laugh," this, young followers, is one of my most prized inventions. What you are and will be facing in this mission will be more far dangerous than what you are thinking, and I won't take for failure. Dumbledore, old fool as he may be, is quite nosey, and it'll be difficult to pull wool over his eyes, and it will not do for my newest followers to fail at their first mission. The second this ring is connected with your blood, it holds a protective shield over you, and no unforgivable curse will be able to touch you, though the common curses will be just as able to hurt you. Plus it can let you keep in contact with each other. All you need to do is to whisper the other's name to it, what you are saying will instantly telegraph into his or her mind. Of course, I will be able to call you as well. You shall be alerted by it when the ring turns red and burns. A few seconds later you shall be transported to where I am."

"But won't people be suspicious if they see us wearing the same rings?" Hermione asked, barely able to keep the curiosity from her voice.

"That won't be a problem, my dear." The Dark Lord's voice was laced with amusement." Once the rings make contact with your blood, it will only be visible to the true owner of it, and it shall never slip of be forced off his or her finger."

The four awed in silence. It was. In some way, as if they were being led into his circle, becoming death eaters, becoming his followers.

* * *

With her trunk packed and everything she needed for the new school year tucked away tidily, Hermione really didn't have anything to do. It was the night before their return to Hogwarts, and she sat in her white linin and lace dressing gown, on the window chair that was so conveniently placed for her to have a spectacular look over the back gardens of the Malfoy Manor. The lawns were neatly kept, though none of which looked _overly_ tidy, it looked quite casual, giving off an easy air to those who saw it. Hermione knew Narcissa spent a lot of effort on it, with her love of flowers and beauty.

Hermione yawned, she really should sleep, yet she knew she wouldn't be able to even if she tried. She seemed to be loosing sleep lately, Hermione knew it was because of all the excitement of their new mission, and she couldn't possibly make herself relax. Maybe a walk in the gardens would be nice. It would, of course, be more relaxing.

With that thought in mind Hermione pulled a heavy woolen shawl form her wardrobe and slipped it over her shoulders. It was a beautiful thing, really, a Christmas present from Lucas. It was woven with the finest silk thread and yarn money could buy, all of a beautiful cinnamon colouring, with amber beads decorating the outside and trimmings. It fell heavy over her shoulders, making her feel more relaxed and secure.

Her slippered feet padded soundlessly down the marble staircases and out of the big doors. There, the cool night air embraced her, combing through her brown curdles and caressing her skin softly. She felt alive, alone at night, with only darkness as company. She sat herself on one of the wooden benches facing the pool. The lilies were beginning to whither and fall, the pedals spreading a whitish yellow fold over the dark ripples. Hermione sighed, and leaned to the side at the beautiful site, right into someone's side.

Hermione's scream was quickly muffled by the hand that clapped over her mouth, and while she fumbled for her wand, she got one good look at her captive. _Draco_.

The tense in her muscles relaxed as she slumped backward into the wooden back of the chair, Draco's hand falling from her mouth to his side, his other hand lay awkwardly on his left knee.

"Merlin Draco," Hermione spoke once she'd caught her breath, her heart still beating erratically fast." You nearly gave me a heart attack. Could you warn me of your presence next time rather than creep up on me?"

"Uh… well… I didn't want to interrupt you, so uh…sorry 'bout that." He replied awkwardly, his hand scratching the back of his neck. Hermione managed a smile.

"Couldn't sleep?" Draco nodded.

"Me either." She sighed, and tightened the shawl around her shoulders, then she noticed Draco was only dressed in a white long-sleeved shirt.

"Aren't you cold?" Draco shrugged a little.

"Not very." He said nonchalantly.

Hermione took his hand in hers, it felt icy. She sat closer to him and wrapped her shawl around both of them, thank Merlin it was long enough.

"Um… thanks." Draco said, scratching his neck again.

"No problem. And since we couldn't sleep, why don't we just stay out here and talk.?"

"Talk about what?"

Hermione shrugged," I don't know, maybe about the mission? I mean, we don't know much about this chamber of secrets do we?"

"Well, my father told me once that the chamber was opened fifty years ago, which, now we know was opened by the Dark Lord. The basilisk that was inside paralyzed muggleborns, and then Moaning Myrtle was killed because of it, and nothing has been heard of the monster ever since."

"Yes, I've done some inside research on it, turns out, the Dark Lord accused Hagrid's spider as the monster, which is the reason Hagrid was expelled."

"That big oaf? How could it possibly be him? He couldn't spell _the Chamber of Secrets_ correct even if he put his mind to it." Draco howled with laughter, and Hermione joined him, it really was quite hilarious to think about.

"So, that's all we know." Hermione sighed, once they'd stopped laughing." I was actually hoping that you would know something more, actually, so that we could learn more about this mission. It really seems so exciting."

"I'm sure we'd know more, once it starts."

Hermione nodded, looking up at the skies.

"You know, when I was little, Lucas and I used to put a blanket in the backyard of his or my house, so we can sneak out at night and just lay under the sky, to watch the stars. We were besotted with the ancient Greek myths, so were my parents, you know."

"Is that why you were named Hermione, after Hermes, one of the twelve Olympic gods?" Draco asked, looking intrigued.

Hermione laughed a little." That's what both Luc and I thought, but then my mother told me that I was named after the snow queen in one of William Shakespeare's plays, so that put an end to that."

Draco smirked," well I was named for a dragon, you know,' Draco' means dragon in Latin. My mother thought about it, she said it will suit me perfectly, and Merlin isn't she right."

Hermione rolled her eyes, then yawned, Draco soon followed after.

"I think we should go to bed." Hermione said, stifling another yawn, Draco nodded, getting up.

They walked quietly back to the manor, then up the stairs. Draco walked her to her room.

"Well, see you tomorrow then. Goodnight, Hermione."

"Goodnight Draco." Hermione said softly, before closing the door.

* * *

 **Ok, I know this chapter isn't the best I have written, but I really liked the idea of Draco and Hermione sharing a night out together. I hope I can squeeze another update in before the holiday ends, cause the school work I have now is really humongous, and I would really like to keep my place as top student. SO... yeah, the updates will definately not be as frequent as Year 1, I hope you can understand. I promise to try my best to update quickly, and if things are lucky I can get another update up at around May. Thanks for the reviews!**

 **~ Jasmine**


	3. Chapter 3 The Start of Year

**Hello, this is quite a long chapter, and I really hope you'll enjoy it. My next update might not be up very soon cause school starts on Monday, but I'll try my best to update as quickly as possible. My thanks to all that has read and reviewed, feel free to add in some advice! *_***

* * *

 **Chapter Three: The Start of Year**

Hermione woke up the next morning feeling refreshed, really for how long had she been losing sleep? After her talk with Draco last night, she had been quite tired, and had slept a dreamless sleep, making the faint rings which had formally been under her eyes disappear completely. She let out a contented sigh as she stretched and fell back against the pillows, eyes trained on the dark green canopy above. She checked her watch on the bed-side table. 6 am. More than five hours until the train leaves the station, until their mission began.

After lying in her bed for just a few minutes more, Hermione decided to get up. _Better get ready for the big day._ She thought to herself as she opened the mahogany doors of her wardrobe. Since she always changes into her Hogwarts robes on the train, Hermione decided to wear some of her own clothes for a change. Thankfully, about seventy-five percent of her clothes at home have been moved to Malfoy Manor during her stay, so it didn't take long for her to find a suitable outfit. She looked at herself in the mirror. A velvet midnight black dress that flared to just above her knees, tight at the top, with a white ribbon tide at the waist. Her polished brown curls were pulled back into a neat French-braid, a few loose strands escaping the twist and framing her face. She wore black ballet flats, the bottoms of the shoes white as well as minimal silver jewelry. Dresses were essential for pureblood girls, even if they can be a little restricting. Throwing on an equally dark cloak over her shoulders and holding it in place with a pin embodied with the De Granger family crest, she called one of the many house elves the Malfoy family owned, and told it to bring her trunk which was neatly packed with everything she needed down stairs.

Knowing she didn't forget anything and even if she did she could just send her parents an owl to have it delivered to her at Hogwarts, she went down to join her friends for breakfast, at exactly half-past eight am.

The Malfoys, the Zabinis, the Parkinsons and the De Grangers, all twelve of them sat at the dining table today in one of Malfoy Manor's many dining halls, facing the back gardens. From where she was sitting, Hermione could just make out the silhouette of the bench Draco and her had sat on last night. She looked at him, sitting cross from her, looking at his plate as he ate his bacon and eggs. Hermione loaded her bowl full of hot porridge, then put some slices of bacon between her buttered pieces of bread. By the looks of it, the Dark Lord sure wouldn't be showing up on her leaving day. He never seems to show up at meals, and frankly, Hermione didn't think the Dark Lord eats at all.

"Father, what does the Dark Lord eat?"

That caught everyone off guard, the small conversations around the table subsided.

"What do you mean, sweetheart?" Demetrius asked, raising a dark eyebrow at her.

"Well, the Dark Lord never seems to come down during meals, and he doesn't seem to eat either, but there's got to be some ways to keep his energy, so... does he even eat at all?"

Lucius laughed as she said this," darling, the Dark Lord is still in no shape to eat proper food, but he drinks these potions every day, so I think that's where he gets his energy, but I suppose you could always ask him." He flashed her a teasing smirk.

Hermione humphed, sure that he is making fun of her, but still, Lucius words did put some ideas in her head," I suppose I'll try that when I come back for the Christmas hols."

"I wish you luck on that." Lucius raised his glass of white wine at her, before taking a sip. Narcissa rolled her eyes at her husband.

"Stop teasing Hermione, Lucius!"

"Fine, fine, sheesh Cissa." Lucius rolled his wife and smirked at Hermione, which she ignored by rolling her eyes at him also.

Just then Lysandra cut in," come on children, it's nearly ten, you don't want to be late, no?"

Not much people were on the platform when they arrived, exactly one hour before the train starts. Hermione, Pansy, Draco and Blaise neatly stacked their trunks in their usual compartment before hopping off to say goodbyes to their parents.

Lysandra gathered her into her arms, squeezing her tight before releasing her, then she was swept into a hug by Demitrius," try and stay out of trouble, sweaty, we'll see you at Christmas."

"Yes father," Hermione said, giving him a smile, then turned to her mother.

"Mother, is Lucas coming over for Christmas or are we going back to France?"

Her mother shrugged," I'm not sure sweaty, I'll have to talk about it with your uncle Lysander, but I'll owl you as soon as we've made the arrangements."

"Thanks, mother. See you at Christmas." Hermione smiled.

"You too, sweaty, I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you too, mother." And with one last wave at all the parents, she hopped on the Hogwarts express to join her friends.

* * *

"Hey guys, guess what? Potter and Weasel aren't on the train." Pansy told them gleefully as she returned from the washrooms. Hermione nearly chocked on the lemonade she was currently sipping.

"WHAT?!"

"You're joking, Pansy, how could Pothead and Weasel not be on the train?" Blaise asked, incredulous.

""Well, why don't you ask _them_ , how should I know?" Pansy huffed, and took her seat next to Hermione.

"Is there by any chance that they've missed the train?" Draco asked, a gleeful lilt in his voice.

"Don't know, but it could be possible. Longbottom and the rest of the Weasels are frantic, they're going over every compartment to see if they're there, it won't be long until they reach ours." Pansy smirked at the thought." It could be soooo fun."

The rest of them share chuckles of amusement.

"But of course there will always be the possibility of them not coming into our compartment, it's not like we're gonna let them anyway." Hermione said, twirling her wand between her fingers.

"Point. But how are we gonna achieve that?" Draco asked, raising an eyebrow at her. Hermione smirked.

"Let's just say that I learned a few spells during the summer from Professor Snape."

"Snape?" It was comical, how Blaise's eyes suddenly got so wide that they look like ping-pong balls, except with different colourings." But how... How did you manage to get Snape to teach you spells?"

"Well," the smirk on Hermione's face got even wider, if that were possible," I'm not his favourite student for no reasons, you know."

" _Muffliato, colloportus, repello weaseltum._ " Hermione finished, before giving her wand a final flourish, the spells flowing rapidly from her lips.

The others gaped at her.

"How in the world did you learn to cast like that, Hermione?" Pansy asked, in awe of her best girlfriend.

It seemed that Hermione has been hiding a lot from them this summer.

"Remember when Professor Snape used to come every three days to visit your family library Draco?" Seeing him nodd, she continued." Well, most of the time I would be there, so I asked if he could teach me some things every time he came there."

"And he agreed? When he didn't even hold that favour for me? His godson?" Draco asked, incredulous.

"You never asked him." Hermione replied with a simple shrug, and stuck out her tongue at him.

Just then, there was some commotion outside the door, the four looked up to see Fred and George Weasley, along with Neville Longbottom standing there, banging on the door. Blaise rolled his eyes.

"What are we gonna do? Let them stand there and try and break down the compartment door?"

Hermione shrugged," even if they do, only Longbottom can have the means of entering. _Repello_ _weaseltum_ means that the Weasleys cannot enter, and _muffliato_ makes them unable to hear what we're saying."

"Well that's a relief, cause I would surely mind a lot if those Weasleys barge in and disturb our peace." Pansy commented." But where on earth are Potter and Weasley?"

* * *

It was a relief to find out that they needn't arrive at the castle by boat again, which was a routine only meant for the first years. Instead, they rode together in a carriage pulled by what appeared to be... nothing.

"Thestrals. They're a kind of magical creatures that can only be seen if one had seen, well, death. For instance someone being killed right in front of their eyes." Hermione, ever the walking encyclopedia of knowledge, informed them.

"Well, I'm sure that there will be a chance for us to see it then." Draco said dryly, the four shared looks, knowing exactly that it was true. Yet, Hermione didn't feel like she minded. That much.

The ride was bumpy, yet so much better than what happened last year, making the beginning of the year much more pleasurable than the last one, even if she had to listen to Dumbledore chatter away on the stand.

To make it better, it turned out that Potter and Weasley had tried to arrive by a flying car because they couldn't pass through the barrier, and had been seen by a howler. But, of course, being the headmaster's favourite students, they weren't expelled, just given a month's whole of detention. With Filch and... Lockhart. Hermione pitied Potter for just a second, really, the way Lockhart seemed to attach himself to Potter was both amusing and sickening to watch.

This year was certainly more promising than the last, and Hermione had a very good idea on how to make it better.

* * *

 _Harry,_

 _How was your summer? Did your aunt and uncle treat you well? I really missed you and your friends, you see, being stuck with no one but portraits and suits of armor for company is really boring. I'm so impressed that you thought of coming to Hogwarts by car when you can't go through the barrier. Why don't we talk that over sometime, I have lots to tell you. I'll decide on the meeting time. Same place, same table._

 _Ms. Mystery_

Harry read the letter over and over, a smile breaking on his face. Some one cared about him, not only Ron and Neville, but this Ms. Mystery too. He wondered who she was, a ghost maybe? She did say that she spent her summer at Hogwarts, which was something that he, Ron and Neville thought far from boring. But he supposed, after staying at Hogwarts every day for a very very long time, it could get bothersome after a while, well, even if that was the case, he wasn't going to find out.

He wondered who she really was. The Grey Lady of the Ravenclaw house? No, it couldn't possibly be, she would have acknowledged him in passing, or maybe some ghost he hadn't met before. Either way, he was looking forward to their next meeting.

* * *

 _Ms. Mystery,_

 _I spent a great summer, thankyou for asking. The Dursleys were starving me, but then the Weasleys came to my rescue. I spent the rest of the summer at their house! The Weasleys are truly an awesome family, we went to Diagon Ally together. I'm really looking forward to our next meeting, I missed you too. I have a free period on Friday, after potions, what do you think?_

 _Harry_

* * *

 _Harry,_

 _Friday would be wonderful, but maybe after dinner? I will be busy till then. Same place, same table, feel free to bring Ronald and Neville if you'd like._

 _Ms. Mystery_

Hermione watched the owl fly off into the morning sky. Yes, this was going to be an interesting year, indeed.

* * *

 **Any ideas on what questions Hermione and Harry would be exchanging? Will Ron and Neville be at the meeting too? Tell me in your reviews please, it's a vote!**

 **~ Jasmine**


	4. Chapter 4 The Chamber Of Secrets, Reopen

**Long time no see everyone, my apologies for being away so long. Hopefully, I can update more frequently in the future. But I'm also working on a new story, so my best might be one or twice a month. Anyways, the next chapter-**

* * *

 **Chapter Four: The Chamber of Secrets, Reopened**

Halloween was just a week later, and the four were excited. It was the time of action, the time when the Chamber of Secrets will be reopened. By none other, than the trio's most trusted friend's sister, Ginevra Weasely.

"Father says that the Dark Lord is nearly ready, he just needs a timing, you know, the launch a dramatic appearance." Draco informed them after he read his father's letter." From what I can tell, we'll have to spy on Potter for some time. See if they have any plans after the feast on Halloween."

"They aren't going to the feast." Blaise suddenly remarked. Seeing the others' surprised faces, he raised an eyebrow." Haven't you heard, Nearly Headless Nick is holding a Death-Day party to celebrate his death day, and Potter, Weasely, Longbottom will all be there."

"They're going to miss the feast for a Death-Day party? They really haven't been to one have they." Pansy remarked, "Well, if the three really are normal people, this will probably be the last Death-Day party they'll ever attend. My, haven't those three got any brains?"

"Potter's raised by muggles, you can't expect him to know anything, and as for Weasely, well, you know what his family's like. Plus, Granny Longbottom will never tell such things to her precious baby grandson. So, no, they don't know what a Death-Day party is like. Maybe not at all." Hermione smirked.

" Well, they sure are gonna enjoy this Halloween." Pansy remarked." After all, we have a big surprise in for them, don't we?"

The four share a smile. Let the games begin.

* * *

The wall had been easy to choose. They had previously informed the Dark Lord of the trio attending the party and he would use his diary to instruct Ginevra Weasley to kill the roosters that Hagrid owned and take their blood.

Hermione stood a few feet from the wall, admiring the work. The girl Weasley had long since left in the same trance she came in, her hands covered in the rooster blood which now dripped from the writing on the wall.

 _THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED._

 _ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE_

"We've got to leave quickly. The Dark Lord said that the Basilisk will attack the cat at exactly eight. We've got to get a move on." Blaise urged, checking his watch.

"Why don't we go to the feast and then leave with a few minutes to spare? It'll be a great time to have a dig at Potty." Draco smirked at the thought.

Pansy rolled her eyes," honestly Draco, you and your big Potty obsession is really getting old." Hermione and Blaise snickered.

"I do not have an obsession with Potter!" Draco shouted, his face pink from embarrassment.

"Sure, sure."

* * *

The Halloween feast was just as delicious as last year, albeit this year there was no troll to disturb them as the four dug in heartily, occasionally sharing conversation with on another about the upcoming plan. The other Slytherins had gotten used to the fact that they stuck to themselves, though word had gotten round that they were planning something, though mostly they think that it was just some prank on teachers or Gryffindors.

At exactly eight, they left the Great Hall, hiding themselves in an alcove which gave them a good view of the whole scene in the corridor. From where Hermione stood, she could just make out the writing on the wall, glistening with chicken blood, and Mrs. Norris just below, hanging by her tail from the torch bracket. She was stiff as a board, her eyes wide and staring. A puddle of water was on the floor near the wall.

"Wow, neat job the basilisk did." Blaise whispered.

They waited in silence after that, though it didn't take long for them to hear the footsteps of the people they were waiting for.

"Harry, what was that all about?" said Weasley, from his voice Hermione deduced that they'd been running. "I couldn't hear anything…"

Then there was a gasp, from Longbottom.

"Look!"

 _So they must have seen it._ Hermione mused smirking a little. _Surprise._

There was a long pause.

* * *

 **Potter's Pov**

"Trust me," said Ron. "We don't want to be found here."

But it was too late. A rumble, as though of distant thunder, told them that the feast had just ended. From either end of the corridor where they stood came the sound of hundreds of feet climbing the stairs, and the loud, happy talk of well-fed people; next moment, students were crashing into the passage from both ends.

The chatter, the bustle, the noise died suddenly as the people in front spotted the hanging cat. Harry, Ron, and Neville stood alone, in the middle of the corridor, as silence fell among the mass of students pressing forward to see the grisly sight.

Then someone shouted through the quiet.

"Enemies of the Heir, beware! You'll be next, Mudbloods!"

It was Draco Malfoy. Behind him, was De Granger, a small smirk on her face. Harry could just make out Zabini and Parkinson in the crowds, making no move to go forward. Malfoy had pushed to the front of the crowd, his cold eyes alive, his usually bloodless face flushed, as he grinned at the sight of the hanging, immobile cat.

What's going on here? What's going on?"

Attracted no doubt by Malfoy's shout, Argus Filch came shouldering his way through the crowd. Then he saw Mrs. Norris and fell back, clutching his face in horror.

"My cat! My cat! What's happened to Mrs. Norris?" he shrieked.

And his popping eyes fell on Harry.

"You!" He screeched. "You! You've murdered my cat! You've killed her! I'll kill you! I'll —"

"Argus!"

Dumbledore had arrived on the scene, followed by a number of other teachers. In seconds, he had swept past Harry, Ron, and Neville and detached Mrs. Norris from the torch bracket.

"Come with me, Argus," he said to Filch. "You, too, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, Mr. Longbottom."

Lockhart stepped forward eagerly.

"My office is nearest, Headmaster — just upstairs — please feel free —"

"Thank you, Gilderoy," said Dumbledore.

The silent crowd parted to let them pass. Lockhart, looking excited and important, hurried after Dumbledore; so did Professors McGonagall and Snape. As they entered Lockhart's darkened office there was a flurry of movement across the walls; Harry saw several of the Lockharts in the pictures dodging out of sight, their hair in rollers. The real Lockhart lit the candles on his desk and stood back. Dumbledore lay Mrs. Norris on the polished surface and began to examine her. Harry, Ron, and Neville exchanged tense looks and sank into chairs outside the pool of candlelight, watching.

The tip of Dumbledore's long, crooked nose was barely an inch from Mrs. Norris's fur. He was looking at her closely through his half-moon spectacles, his long fingers gently prodding and poking. Professor McGonagall was bent almost as close, her eyes narrowed. Snape loomed behind them, half in shadow, wearing a most peculiar expression: It was as though he was trying hard not to smile. And Lockhart was hovering around all of them, making suggestions.

"It was definitely a curse that killed her — probably the Transmogrifian Torture — I've seen it used many times, so unlucky I wasn't there, I know the very countercurse that would have saved her.…"

Lockhart's comments were punctuated by Filch's dry, racking sobs. He was slumped in a chair by the desk, unable to look at Mrs. Norris, his face in his hands. Much as he detested Filch, Harry couldn't help feeling a bit sorry for him, though not nearly as sorry as he felt for himself If Dumbledore believed Filch, he would be expelled for sure.

Dumbledore was now muttering strange words under his breath and tapping Mrs. Norris with his wand but nothing happened. She continued to look as though she had been recently stuffed.

"…I remember something very similar happening in Ouagadogou," said Lockhart, "a series of attacks, the full story's in my autobiography, I was able to provide the townsfolk with various amulets, which cleared the matter up at once.…"

The photographs of Lockhart on the walls were all nodding in agreement as he talked. One of them had forgotten to remove his hair net.

At last Dumbledore straightened up.

"She's not dead, Argus," he said softly.

Lockhart stopped abruptly in the middle of counting the number of murders he had prevented.

"Not dead?" choked Filch, looking through his fingers at Mrs. Norris. "But why's she all — all stiff and frozen?"

"She has been Petrified," said Dumbledore ("Ah! I thought so!" said Lockhart). "But how, I cannot say…"

"Ask him!" shrieked Filch, turning his blotched and tearstained face to Harry.

"No second year could have done this," said Dumbledore firmly. "it would take Dark Magic of the most advanced —"

"He did it, he did it!" Filch spat, his pouchy face purpling. "You saw what he wrote on the wall! He found — in my office — he knows I'm a — I'm a —" Filch's face worked horribly. "He knows I'm a Squib!" he finished.

"I never touched Mrs. Norris!" Harry said loudly, uncomfortably aware of everyone looking at him, including all the Lockharts on the walls. "And I don't even know what a Squib is."

"Rubbish!" snarled Filch. "He saw my Kwikspell letter!"

"If I might speak, Headmaster," said Snape from the shadows, and Harry's sense of foreboding increased; he was sure nothing Snape had to say was going to do him any good.

"Potter and his friends may have simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time," he said, a slight sneer curling his mouth as though he doubted it. "But we do have a set of suspicious circumstances here. Why was he in the upstairs corridor at all? Why wasn't he at the Halloween feast?"

Harry, Ron and Neville all launched into an explanation about the Death-Day party. "…there were hundreds of ghosts, they'll tell you we were there —"

"But why not join the feast afterward?" said Snape, his black eyes glittering in the candlelight. "Why go up to that corridor?"

Ron and Neville looked at Harry.

"Because — because —" Harry said, his heart thumping very fast; something told him it would sound very far-fetched if he told them he had been led there by a bodiless voice no one but he could hear, "because we were tired and wanted to go to bed," he said.

"Without any supper?" said Snape, a triumphant smile flickering across his gaunt face. "I didn't think ghosts provided food fit for living people at their parties."

"We weren't hungry," said Ron loudly as his stomach gave a huge rumble.

Snape's nasty smile widened.

"I suggest, Headmaster, that Potter is not being entirely truthful," he said. "It might be a good idea if he were deprived of certain privileges until he is ready to tell us the whole story. I personally feel he should be taken off the Gryffindor Quidditch team until he is ready to be honest."

"Really, Severus," said Professor McGonagall sharply, "I see no reason to stop the boy playing Quidditch. This cat wasn't hit over the head with a broomstick. There is no evidence at all that Potter has done anything wrong."

Dumbledore was giving Harry a searching look. His twinkling light-blue gaze made Harry feel as though he were being X-rayed.

"Innocent until proven guilty, Severus," he said firmly.

Snape looked furious.

So did Filch.

"My cat has been Petrified!" he shrieked, his eyes popping. "I want to see some punishment!"

"We will be able to cure her, Argus," said Dumbledore patiently. "Professor Sprout recently managed to procure some Mandrakes. As soon as they have reached their full size, I will have a potion made that will revive Mrs. Norris."

"I'll make it," Lockhart butted in. "I must have done it a hundred times. I could whip up a Mandrake Restorative Draught in my sleep —"

"Excuse me," said Snape icily. "But I believe I am the Potions master at this school."

There was a very awkward pause.

"You may go," Dumbledore said to Harry, Ron, and Neville.

They went, as quickly as they could without actually running. When they were a floor up from Lockhart's office, they turned into an empty classroom and closed the door quietly behind them. Harry squinted at his friends' darkened faces.

"D'you think I should have told them about that voice I heard?"

"No," said Ron, without hesitation. "Hearing voices no one else can hear isn't a good sign, even in the wizarding world."

Something in Ron's voice made Harry ask, "You do believe me, don't you?"

"'Course I do," said Ron quickly. "But — you must admit it's weird…"

"I know it's weird," said Harry. "The whole thing's weird. What was that writing on the wall about? The Chamber Has Been Opened.…What's that supposed to mean?"

"You know, it rings a sort of bell," said Ron slowly. "I think someone told me a story about a secret chamber at Hogwarts once…might've been Bill…."

"And what on earth's a Squib?" said Harry.

To his surprise, Ron stifled a snigger.

"Well — it's not funny really — but as it's Filch," he said. "A Squib is someone who was born into a wizarding family but hasn't got any magic powers. Kind of the opposite of Muggle-born wizards, but Squibs are quite unusual. If Filch's trying to learn magic from a Kwikspell course, I reckon he must be a Squib. It would explain a lot. Like why he hates students so much." Ron gave a satisfied smile. "He's bitter."

A clock chimed somewhere.

"Midnight," said Harry. "We'd better get to bed before Snape comes along and tries to frame us for something else."

As the three disappeared off the common room, four shadows appeared out of an alcove.

"Well, seems it's true that Potter is a parselmouth." Blaise observed." I wonder how though, I don't remember his family having any ties to Slytherin."

"Maybe not. I suppose we could ask the Dark Lord about this later." Hermione said." Anyways, we gotta go. We can't be sure when the teachers decide to pop out and I sure don't wanna get caught."

They disappeared into the shadows again.

* * *

 **So, how 'bout it? I'm working on the seventh chapter now. Thank you all for your support!**

 **~ Jas**


	5. Chapter 5 Quidditche

**Thankyou so much for the reviews, I always love to read them. For those of you who ask if it's dramione, well, possibly, but I'm not sure 'cos it's only the second part of the _Forever Darkness_ series. There's still a long way to go. Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot, all the rest belong to JK Rowling.**

* * *

 **Chapter Five: Quidditche**

Hermione cast the disillusionment charm upon herself, having the familiar feeling of an egg cracking on her head, and instantly she melted into the the surroundings of the common rooms, which were now empty except for her friends.

"Neat." Blaise said admirably, clapping a hand on her now nearly invisible shoulder," you did a fine job, 'Mione."

"Thanks." Hermione said as she walked out the dorm." Wish me luck!"

* * *

Harry, Ron and Neville walked along the hallway that led to the library. He still remembered the last time he came this way with the same purpose, clearly as if it were just yesterday. Ron and Nev were both eager to meet the witch who had helped them so match last year, and their steps were quick as they entered the library.

Really, they were so eager to meet her, they didn't even notice Pansy Parkinson lurking in the shadows of the bookshelves nearby, or Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini on broomsticks flying back-and-forth outside the window, each time looking in.

The alcove was just as quiet and abandoned as Harry had last been inside, the only source of light were the few candles floating here and there, and the light coming in from the window.

"Hello, Harry, Ron, Neville, why don't you all take a seat." The familiar soft soothing voice of Ms. Mystery seemed to come from every corner of the alcove, floating like soft winds. They sat side-by-side on the worn sofa, and a tea tray appeared on the table before them. A jar of milk, several jam tarts, chocolate cookies and other bits and pieces were laden.

"I hope you wouldn't mind having tea with me while we're talking."

"Thankyou." Ron's voice was already muffled in having a chocolate chipped cookie stuffed in his mouth, and with his other hand, he reached for one of the muffins. "Harry, Nev, these are delicious, want one?"

Harry tried not to be embarrassed by his friend's lack of manners, instead turning his attention to the person he could not see, and began to tell her what happened.

He told her all about how the house elf called Dobby had visited him, and warned him not to come to Hogwarts. He told her of the accident with the cake, and how his aunt and uncle had locked him up with very little food to eat. He told her of his finally being rescued by the Weasley twins, and spending the rest of the summer at the Weasleys. He then told her about not being able to go through the barrier at platform nine and three quarters, his guess that the house elf Dobby had done it to stop him from returning to Hogwarts, and how they'd finally decided to steal the Weasleys' car and had flown to Hogwarts.

At some intervals she would cut in, asking him to back track or if he would retell something more specifically. And at other times, Ron or Nev would put in something he'd forgotten.

Finally, for what seemed like eternity, he finished, the light was dim, the sun had already sunk into the mountains, and the outside was black as ink. The only sources of light left in the room were the candles floating about.

She spoke at last, as if after a great deal of thought.

"So… This, Dobby, whoever he works for, tried to stop you from coming to Hogwarts because he thought that there was some kind of danger here. Am I correct?"

Harry nodded," yeah, but I never really give that thought a mind."

He could practically feel Ms. Mystery raise her eyebrows in confusion." Why ever not?"

"Well," Harry paused, gathering his thoughts." We have guessed who this house elf might work for."

"Oh?" She sounded far more interested than she did before.

"Yes, well, Ron told me that only the richest of the purebloods have house elves working for them, and judging from how badly Dobby was treated, I'd say… Well, it could be the Malfoys."

"But is it really is the Malfoys who are behind all this, then it gives us all the more reason not to trust Dobby," Nev put on." Because, who knows what the Malfoys are planning behind Harry's back. They're ruthless."

"That can be a possibility, I'll give it some thought. Here, I got something for you." An ancient book floated in front of him, the cover worn, the pages yellow. Harry took it gingerly, as if a harder touch would break it.

"I know you don't like reading books, but I thought this one might come in handy in the future."

Harry looked at the cover, _Spells and Charms, newest edition._

"Thankyou." He breathed, turning the book over and over in his hands.

"Till next time, Harry, Ron, Neville."

* * *

Hermione watched as the trio walked out of the library, a thoughtful expression on her face as she twirled a quill on her fingertips. She undid the disillusionment spell she had on and sat there, sipping a cup of tea that was left. Really, the boys knew more than she had expected. And this Dobby… she had seen the elf during her stay at Malfoy Manor, she would have to keep quite an eye in him. But still…she better not tell anyone about this one, it was sometimes better to keep things low key. Yet this meeting didn't prove very useful, nor had she formally thought otherwise. No, it was simply a meeting to restart their last year's encounters, it would be good to have someone that close to Dumbledore.

Sighing as she got up, Hermione headed towards the Slytherin common room. Her friends would be waiting for her by now, probably having brought her some dinner from the kitchens. This was again, going to be a late night.

* * *

Harry woke early on Saturday morning and lay for a while thinking about the coming Quidditch match. Yet thoughts of the meeting he'd had just over a week ago with the mysterious girl crowded his mind. He'd flipped through the book she'd given him a few times, and found that it was really helpful, he'd learnt a couple of handy charms already, for instance the tickling charm he planned to use on Malfoy the next time they met alone. After half an hour of lying there with his insides churning, he got up, dressed, and went down to breakfast early, where he found the rest of the Gryffindor team huddled at the long, empty table, all looking uptight and not speaking much.

As eleven o'clock approached, the whole school started to make its way down to the Quidditch stadium. It was a muggy sort of day with a hint of thunder in the air. Ron and Nev came hurrying over to wish Harry good luck as he entered the locker rooms. The team pulled on their scarlet Gryffindor robes, then sat down to listen to Wood's usual pre-match pep talk.

"Slytherin has better brooms than us," he began. "No point denying it. But we've got better people on our brooms. We've trained harder than they have, we've been flying in all weathers —"("Too true," muttered George Weasley. "I haven't been properly dry since August.")"— and we're going to make them rue the day they let that little bit of slime, Malfoy, buy his way onto their team."

Chest heaving with emotion, Wood turned to Harry.

"It'll be down to you, Harry, to show them that a Seeker has to have something more than a rich father. Get to that Snitch before Malfoy or die trying, Harry, because we've got to win today, we've got to."

"So no pressure, Harry" said Fred, winking at him.

As they walked out onto the pitch, a roar of noise greeted them; mainly cheers, because Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were anxious to see Slytherin beaten, but the Slytherins in the crowd made their boos and hisses heard, too. Madam Hooch, the Quidditch teacher, asked Flint and Wood to shake hands, which they did, giving each other threatening stares and gripping rather harder than was necessary.

"On my whistle," said Madam Hooch. "Three…two…one…"

With a roar from the crowd to speed them upward, the fourteen players rose toward the leaden sky. Harry flew higher than any of them, squinting around for the Snitch.

"All right there, Pothead?" yelled Malfoy, shooting underneath him as though to show off the speed of his broom.

Harry had no time to reply. At that very moment, a heavy black Bludger came pelting toward him; he avoided it so narrowly that he felt it ruffle his hair as it passed.

"Close one, Harry!" said George, streaking past him with his club in his hand, ready to knock the Bludger back toward a Slytherin. Harry saw George give the Bludger a powerful whack in the direction of Adrian Pucey, but the Bludger changed direction in midair and shot straight for Harry again.

Harry dropped quickly to avoid it, and George managed to hit it hard toward Malfoy. Once again, the Bludger swerved like a boomerang and shot at Harry's head.

Harry put on a burst of speed and zoomed toward the other end of the pitch. He could hear the Bludger whistling along behind him. What was going on? Bludgers never concentrated on one player like this; it was their job to try and unseat as many people as possible…

And it couldn't be the Slytherins, could it? As far as Harry knows, manipulating a Bludger needs highly advanced magic, even De Granger, the top of their year, couldn't possibly have mastered that.

Fred Weasley was waiting for the Bludger at the other end. Harry ducked as Fred swung at the Bludger with all his might; the Bludger was knocked off course.

"Gotcha!" Fred yelled happily, but he was wrong; as though it was magnetically attracted to Harry, the Bludger pelted after him once more and Harry was forced to fly off at full speed.

It had started to rain; Harry felt heavy drops fall onto his face, splattering onto his glasses. He didn't have a clue what was going on in the rest of the game until he heard Lee Jordan, who was commentating, say, "Slytherin lead, sixty points to zero.'

The Slytherins' superior brooms were clearly doing their jobs, and meanwhile the mad Bludger was doing all it could to knock Harry out of the air. Fred and George were now flying so close to him on either side that Harry could see nothing at all except their flailing arms and had no chance to look for the Snitch, let alone catch it.

"Someone's — tampered — with — this — Bludger —" Fred grunted, swinging his bat with all his might at it as it launched a new attack on Harry.

"We need time out," said George, trying to signal to Wood and stop the Bludger breaking Harry's nose at the same time.

Wood had obviously got the message. Madam Hooch's whistle rang out and Harry, Fred, and George dived for the ground, still trying to avoid the mad Bludger.

"What's going on?" said Wood as the Gryffindor team huddled together, while Slytherins in the crowd jeered. Harry saw De Granger in the crowd, her nose buried in a book. "We're being flattened. Fred, George, where were you when that Bludger stopped Angelina scoring?"

"We were twenty feet above her, stopping the other Bludger from murdering Harry, Oliver," said George angrily. "Someone's fixed it — it won't leave Harry alone. It hasn't gone for anyone else all game. The Slytherins must have done something to it."

"But the Bludgers have been locked in Madam Hooch's office since our last practice, and there was nothing wrong with them then…" said Wood, anxiously. Madam Hooch was walking toward them. Over her shoulder, Harry could see the Slytherin team jeering and pointing in his direction.

"Listen," said Harry as she came nearer and nearer, "with you two flying around me all the time the only way I'm going to catch the Snitch is if it flies up my sleeve. Go back to the rest of the team and let me deal with the rogue one."

"Don't be thick," said Fred. "It'll take your head off."

Wood was looking from Harry to the Weasleys.

"Oliver, this is insane," said Alicia Spinner angrily. "You can't let Harry deal with that thing on his own. Let's ask for an inquiry…"

"If we stop now, we'll have to forfeit the match!" said Harry. "And we're not losing to Slytherin just because of a crazy Bludger! Come on, Oliver, tell them to leave me alone!"

"This is all your fault," George said angrily to Wood. "`Get the Snitch or die trying,' what a stupid thing to tell him —"

Madam Hooch had joined them.

"Ready to resume play?" she asked Wood.

Wood looked at the determined look on Harry's face.

"All right," he said. "Fred, George, you heard Harry — leave him alone and let him deal with the Bludger on his own."

The rain was falling more heavily now. On Madam Hooch's whistle, Harry kicked hard into the air and heard the telltale whoosh of the Bludger behind him. Higher and higher Harry climbed; he looped and swooped, spiraled, zigzagged, and rolled. Slightly dizzy, he nevertheless kept his eyes wide open, rain was speckling his glasses and ran up his nostrils as he hung upside down, avoiding another fierce dive from the Bludger. He could hear laughter from the crowd; he knew he must look very stupid, but the rogue Bludger was heavy and couldn't change direction as quickly as Harry could; he began a kind of roller-coaster ride around the edges of the stadium, squinting through the silver sheets of rain to the Gryffindor goal posts, where Adrian Pucey was trying to get past Wood.

A whistling in Harry's ear told him the Bludger had just missed him again; he turned right over and sped in the opposite direction.

"Training for the ballet, Potter?" yelled Malfoy as Harry was forced to do a stupid kind of twirl in midair to dodge the Bludger, and he fled, the Bludger trailing a few feet behind him; and then, glaring back at Malfoy in hatred, he saw it — the Golden Snitch. It was hovering inches above Malfoy's left ear — and Malfoy, busy laughing at Harry, hadn't seen it.

For an agonizing moment, Harry hung in midair, not daring to speed toward Malfoy in case he looked up and saw the Snitch.

WHAM.

He had stayed still a second too long. The Bludger had hit him at last, smashed into his elbow, and Harry felt his arm break. Dimly, dazed by the searing pain in his arm, he slid sideways on his rain-drenched broom, one knee still crooked over it, his right arm dangling useless at his side — the Bludger came pelting back for a second attack, this time zooming at his face — Harry swerved out of the way, one idea firmly lodged in his numb brain: get to Malfoy

Through a haze of rain and pain he dived for the shimmering, sneering face below him and saw its eyes widen with fear: Malfoy thought Harry was attacking him.

"What the —" he gasped, careening out of Harry's way.

Harry took his remaining hand off his broom and made a wild snatch; he felt his fingers close on the cold Snitch but was now only gripping the broom with his legs, and there was a yell from the crowd below as he headed straight for the ground, trying hard not to pass out.

With a splattering thud he hit the mud and rolled off his broom. His arm was hanging at a very strange angle; riddled with pain, he heard, as though from a distance, a good deal of whistling and shouting. He focused on the Snitch clutched in his good hand.

"Aha," he said vaguely. "We've won."

And he fainted.

* * *

 **Till next time!**

 **~ Jasmine**


	6. Chapter 6 Duelling

**Well, it's been nearly eight months since I last updated, so sorry guys, I feel horrible, and I'm trying to update quicker. I promise I won't abandon this story. Thank you for all your reviews, I cherish everyone of them.**

* * *

 **Chapter Six: Dueling**

"Ah, if Harry Potter only knew!" Dobby groaned, more tears dripping onto his ragged pillowcase. "If he knew what he means to us, to the lowly, the enslaved, we dregs of the magical world! Dobby remembers how it was when He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was at the height of his powers, sir! We house-elves were treated like vermin, sir! Of course, Dobby is still treated like that, sir," he admitted, drying his face on the pillowcase. "But mostly, sir, life has improved for my kind since you triumphed over He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Harry Potter survived, and the Dark Lord's power was broken, and it was a new dawn, sir, and Harry Potter shone like a beacon of hope for those of us who thought the Dark days would never end, sit…And now, at Hogwarts, terrible things are to happen, are perhaps happening already, and Dobby cannot let Harry Potter stay here now that history is to repeat itself, now that the Chamber of Secrets is open once more."

Dobby froze, horrorstruck, then grabbed Harry's water jug from his bedside table and cracked it over his own head, toppling out of sight. A second later, he crawled back onto the bed, cross-eyed, muttering, "Bad Dobby, very bad Dobby…"

"So there is a Chamber of Secrets?" Harry whispered. "And did you say it's been opened before? Tell me, Dobby!"

He seized the elf's bony wrist as Dobby's hand inched toward the water jug. "But I'm not Muggle-born — how can I be in danger from the Chamber?"

"Ah, sir, ask no more, ask no more of poor Dobby," stammered the elf, his eyes huge in the dark. "Dark deeds are planned in this place, but Harry Potter must not be here when they happen — go home, Harry Potter, go home. Harry Potter must not meddle in this, sir, 'tis too dangerous —"

"Who is it, Dobby?" Harry said, keeping a firm hold on Dobby's wrist to stop him from hitting himself with the water jug again. "Who's opened it? Who opened it last time?"

"Dobby can't, sir, Dobby can't, Dobby mustn't tell!" squealed the elf. "Go home, Harry Potter, go home!"

"I'm not going anywhere!" said Harry fiercely.

Hermione watched from the side-lines as Dobby talked to Potter. Really, it was just a way to get away from Draco and his constant talk of Potter and Quidditch. He'd been unbearable ever since he lost the match, something that Hermione really can't blame him. Potter did have quite a knack for flying somehow. But for now, it seemed as if she'd finally found something worth her time. She needed to deal with this elf, first, before it spilled all it knew to Potter, it had already revealed too much.

She got up from where she was sitting underneath a disillusionment charm, and was just about to leave when Dumbledore backed into the dormitory, wearing a long woolly dressing gown and a nightcap. He was carrying one end of what looked like a statue. Professor McGonagall appeared a second later, carrying its feet. Together, they heaved it onto a bed.

"Get Madam Pomfrey," whispered Dumbledore, and Professor McGonagall hurried past just where Hermione stood, hidden, and disappeared into the office. She heard urgent voices, and then Professor McGonagall swept back into view, closely followed by Madam Pomfrey, who was pulling a cardigan on over her nightdress. She heard a sharp intake of breath.

"What happened?" Madam Pomfrey whispered to Dumbledore, bending over the statue on the bed.

"Another attack," said Dumbledore. "Minerva found him on the stairs." Hermione suppressed a smirk.

"There was a bunch of grapes next to him," said Professor McGonagall. "We think he was trying to sneak up here to visit Potter."

She could practically see the guilt flooding his veins. Poor Potter. She watched, as slowly and carefully, he raised himself a few inches so he could look at the statue on the bed. A ray of moonlight lay across its staring face.

It was Colin Creevey. His eyes were wide and his hands were stuck up in front of him, holding his camera. Looks like even the basilisk can't stand the boy and his camera.

"Petrified?" whispered Madam Pomfrey.

"Yes," said Professor McGonagall. "But I shudder to think …If Albus hadn't been on the way downstairs for hot chocolate — who knows what might have —"

The three of them stared down at Colin. Then Dumbledore leaned forward and wrenched the camera out of Colin's rigid grip.

"You don't think he managed to get a picture of his attacker?" said Professor McGonagall eagerly. Hermione rolled her eyes a bit. Honestly.

Dumbledore didn't answer. He opened the back of the camera.

"Good gracious!" said Madam Pomfrey.

A jet of steam had hissed out of the camera. Hermione, hidden a few yards away, caught the acrid smell of burnt plastic.

"Melted," said Madam Pomfrey wonderingly. "All melted…"

"What does this mean, Albus?" Professor McGonagall asked urgently.

"It means," said Dumbledore, "that the Chamber of Secrets is indeed open again."

Madam Pomfrey clapped a hand to her mouth. Professor McGonagall stared at Dumbledore.

"But, Albus…surely…who?"

"The question is not who," said Dumbledore, his eyes on Colin. "The question is, how…" And from what Hermione could see of Professor McGonagall's shadowy face, she didn't understand this any better than Dumbledore did.

She didn't stay long though, after McGonagall and Dumbledore discussed the Creevy boy in hushed whispers, and quietly slipped out of the hospital wing, knowing that Potter too, was laying wide-awake in bed, mulling what he'd just heard over and over again. Let him sweat, hah!

* * *

When Hermione got up Sunday morning and went down to the common room, Draco was still bad-mouthing Potter for the Quidditch match. Hermione just rolled her eyes at that. Really, what is it with boys and Quidditch, Hermione could barely keep herself awake while watching it.

The news that Colin Creevey had been attacked and was now lying as though dead in the hospital wing had spread through the entire school by Monday morning. The air was suddenly thick with rumor and suspicion. The first years were now moving around the castle in tight-knit groups, as though scared they would be attacked if they ventured forth alone. Yet another exciting thing was that just a few days after Potter was released from the hospital wing, a notice had been pinned up on all of the houses' notice boards. Blaise and Draco beckoned the girls over when they arrived in the common room,..

"They're starting a Dueling Club!" said Blaise. "First meeting tonight. I mean, it's not like we're going to need it much, but it might be a lot of fun considering the Gryffindorks are most likely to come."

"Could be useful," Hermione said, giving the thing a thorough thought. "Shall we go?"

* * *

Blaise, Draco and Pansy were all for it, so at eight o'clock that evening they hurried back to the Great Hall. The long dining tables had vanished and a golden stage had appeared along one wall, lit by thousands of candles floating overhead. The ceiling was velvety black once more and most of the school seemed to be packed beneath it, all carrying their wands and looking excited.

"I wonder who'll be teaching us?" said Hermione as they edged into the chattering crowd. "Someone told me Flitwick was a dueling champion when he was young — maybe it'll be him. At least that way we'll learn something useful."

Just as she finished the sentence, Gilderoy Lockhart walked onto the stage, resplendent in robes of deep plum and accompanied by none other than Professor Snape, wearing his usual black.

"Professor Snape's going to teach us?" Hermione squealed, looking excited.

Lockhart waved an arm for silence and called ,"Gather round, gather round! Can everyone see me? Can you all hear me? Excellent!

"Now, Professor Dumbledore has granted me permission to start this little dueling club, to train you all in case you ever need to defend yourselves as I myself have done on countless occasions — for full details, see my published works.

"Let me introduce my assistant, Professor Snape," said Lockhart, flashing a wide smile. "He tells me he knows a tiny little bit about dueling himself and has sportingly agreed to help me with a short demonstration before we begin. Now, I don't want any of you youngsters to worry — you'll still have your Potions master when I'm through with him, never fear!"

Draco rolled his eyes and sneered," I think we'll have our Defense teacher in a matchbox next time."

Professor Snape's upper lip was curling. Hermione wondered why Lockhart was still smiling; if he had been looking at anyone else like that they'd have been running as fast as they could in the opposite direction.

Lockhart and Snape turned to face each other and bowed; at least, Lockhart did, with much twirling of his hands, whereas Snape jerked his head irritably. Then they raised their wands like swords in front of them.

"As you see, we are holding our wands in the accepted combative position," Lockhart told the silent crowd. "On the count of three, we will cast our first spells. Neither of us will be aiming to kill, of course."

"I wouldn't bet on that," Blaise murmured, watching Snape baring his teeth," Snape looks like he's ready to _kill_."

"One — two — three —"

Both of them swung their wands above their heads and pointed them at their opponent; Snape cried: "Expelliarmus!" There was a dazzling flash of scarlet light and Lockhart was blasted off his feet: He flew backward off the stage, smashed into the wall, and slid down it to sprawl on the floor.

Malfoy and the others cheered, Hermione also let a small smile appear on her face, she made a mental note to herself to let Snape teach her more spells useful while dueling.

Lockhart was getting unsteadily to his feet. His hat had fallen off and his wavy hair was standing on end.

"Well, there you have it!" he said, tottering back onto the platform. "That was a Disarming Charm — as you see, I've lost my wand — ah, thank you, Miss Brown — yes, an excellent idea to show them that, Professor Snape, but if you don't mind my saying so, it was very obvious what you were about to do. If I had wanted to stop you it would have been only too easy — however, I felt it would be instructive to let them see…"

Snape was looking murderous. Possibly Lockhart had noticed, because he said, "Enough demonstrating! I'm going to come amongst you now and put you all into pairs. Professor Snape, if you'd like to help me —"

They moved through the crowd, matching up partners. Lockhart teamed Neville with Justin Finch-Fletchley, and Snape paired Potter with Draco, Weasely with Blaise and then turned to Hermione." Who would you like to pair with?"

Hermione gave a small shrug, and Snape paired her with Pansy. They grinned at each other, before pocketing their wands and checking how the others were doing. Blaise had Weasely bounded up with rope in a mere second, yet there was some tension between Potter and Draco. Potter hat hit him with a tickling spell while Draco had sent _Tarantallegra_ at him, and he was busy doing a tap dance. Potter certainly had two left feet.

"Stop! Stop!" screamed Lockhart, but Snape took charge. " _Finite Incantatem_!" he shouted, and everything returned to normal. A haze of greenish smoke was hovering over the scene. Both Neville and Justin were lying on the floor, panting; Weasely was holding up an ashen-faced Seamus, apologizing for whatever his broken wand had done." Pathetic." Pansy murmured into her ear, to which Hermione nodded with silent agreement.

* * *

 **Harry's Pov**

"Dear, dear," said Lockhart, skittering through the crowd, looking at the aftermath of the duels. "Up you go, Macmillan…."

"Careful there, Miss Fawcett…. Pinch it hard, it'll stop bleeding in a second,"

"I think I'd better teach you how to block unfriendly spells," said Lockhart, standing flustered in the midst of the hall. He glanced at Snape, whose black eyes glinted, and looked quickly away. "Let's have a volunteer pair — Longbottom and Finch-Fletchley, how about you —"

"A bad idea, Professor Lockhart," said Snape, gliding over like a large and malevolent bat. "Longbottom causes devastation with the simplest spells. We'll be sending what's left of Finch-Fletchley up to the hospital wing in a matchbox." Neville's round, pink face went pinker. "How about Malfoy and Potter?" said Snape with a twisted smile.

"Excellent idea!" said Lockhart, gesturing Harry and Malfoy into the middle of the hall as the crowd backed away to give them room.

"Now, Harry," said Lockhart. "When Draco points his wand at you, you do this."

He raised his own wand, attempted a complicated sort of wiggling action, and dropped it. Snape smirked as Lockhart quickly picked it up, saying, "Whoops — my wand is a little overexcited —"

Snape moved closer to Malfoy, bent down, and whispered something in his ear. Malfoy smirked, too. Harry looked up nervously at Lockhart and said, "Professor, could you show me that blocking thing again?"

"Scared?" muttered Malfoy, so that Lockhart couldn't hear him.

"You wish," said Harry out of the corner of his mouth.

Lockhart cuffed Harry merrily on the shoulder. "Just do what I did, Harry!"

"What, drop my wand?"

But Lockhart wasn't listening.

"Three — two — one — go!" he shouted.

Malfoy raised his wand quickly and bellowed, "Serpensortia!"

The end of his wand exploded. Harry watched, aghast, as a long black snake shot out of it, fell heavily onto the floor between them, and raised itself, ready to strike. There were screams as the crowd backed swiftly away, clearing the floor.

"Don't move, Potter," said Snape lazily, clearly enjoying the sight of Harry standing motionless, eye to eye with the angry snake. "I'll get rid of it…"

"Allow me!" shouted Lockhart. He brandished his wand at the snake and there was a loud bang; the snake, instead of vanishing, flew ten feet into the air and fell back to the floor with a loud smack. Enraged, hissing furiously, it slithered straight toward Justin Finch-Fletchley and raised itself again, fangs exposed, poised to strike.

Harry wasn't sure what made him do it. He wasn't even aware of deciding to do it. All he knew was that his legs were carrying him forward as though he was on casters and that he had shouted stupidly at the snake, "Leave him alone!" And miraculously — inexplicably — the snake slumped to the floor, docile as a thick, black garden hose, its eyes now on Harry. Harry felt the fear drain out of him. He knew the snake wouldn't attack anyone now, though how he knew it, he couldn't have explained.

He looked up at Justin, grinning, expecting to see Justin looking relieved, or puzzled, or even grateful — but certainly not angry and scared.

"What do you think you're playing at?" he shouted, and before Harry could say anything, Justin had turned and stormed out of the hall.

Snape stepped forward, waved his wand, and the snake vanished in a small puff of black smoke. Snape, too, was looking at Harry in an unexpected way: It was a shrewd and calculating look, and Harry didn't like it. He was also dimly aware of an ominous muttering all around the walls. Then he felt a tugging on the back of his robes.

"Come on," said Ron's voice in his ear. "Move — come on —"

Harry left the club numbly, wondering what in the world had happened. He still couldn't figure out the look Hermione De Granger had shot him when he left. It was puzzled, and calculating. As if she knew something that he did not.

* * *

 **Well that's that. See you next chapter! Read & Review!**

 **~ Jas**


	7. Author's Notes

**A/N**

 **It's been a long time since I've last updated. Sorry for that. But with the exams and then the corona-virus in China, I've been quite busy. And I found out after reading thoroughly through this story that there are a few holes in the plot that I needed to mend. For one, I need to add a new chapter four as there are some parts missing. I'll keep on until all of them are mended. So for reading a new chapter you might have to turn to the chapters before as I'm re-uploading them. I hope you can understand and thank you for all the reviews and support.**

 **~ Jasmine**

 **Ps. I'm posting new chapter four later today or tomorrow, so you can keep an eye out for it if you like. :p**


	8. Chapter 7 New Discoveries

**Chapter Seven: New Discoveries**

Then he felt a tugging on the back of his robes.

"Come on," said Ron's voice in his ear. "Move — come on —"

Ron steered him out of the hall, Neville hurrying alongside them. As they went through the doors, the people on either side drew away as though they were frightened of catching something. Harry didn't have a clue what was going on, and neither Ron nor Neville explained anything until they had dragged him all the way up to the empty Gryffindor common room.

Then Ron pushed Harry into an armchair and said, "You're a Parselmouth. Why didn't you tell us?"

"I'm a what?" said Harry.

"A Parselmouth!" said Ron. "You can talk to snakes!"

"I know," said Harry. "I mean, that's only the second time I've ever done it. I accidentally set a boa constrictor on my cousin Dudley at the zoo once — long story — but it was telling me it had never seen Brazil and I sort of set it free without meaning to that was before I knew I was a wizard —"

"A boa constrictor told you it had never seen Brazil?" Ron repeated faintly.

"So?" said Harry. "I bet loads of people here can do it."

"Oh, no they can't," said Ron. "It's not a very common gift. Harry, this is bad."

"What's bad?" said Harry, starting to feel quite angry. "What's wrong with everyone? Listen, if I hadn't told that snake not to attack Justin —"

"Oh, that's what you said to it?"

"What d'you mean? You were there — you heard me —"

"I heard you speaking Parseltongue," said Ron. "Snake language. You could have been saying anything — no wonder Justin panicked, you sounded like you were egging the snake on or something — it was creepy, you know —"

Harry gaped at him.

"I spoke a different language? But — I didn't realize — how can I speak a language without knowing I can speak it?"

Ron shook his head. Both he and Neville were looking as though someone had died. Harry couldn't see what was so terrible.

"D'you want to tell me what's wrong with stopping a massive snake biting off Justin's head?" he said. "What does it matter how I did it as long as Justin doesn't have to join the Headless Hunt?"

"It matters," said Neville, speaking at last in a hushed voice, "because my gran told me that being able to talk to snakes was what Salazar Slytherin was famous for. That's why the symbol of Slytherin House is a serpent."

Harry's mouth fell open.

"Exactly," said Ron. "And now the whole school's going to think you're his great-great-great-great-grandson or something —"

"But I'm not," said Harry, with a panic he couldn't quite explain.

"You'll find that hard to prove," said Neville. "He lived about a thousand years ago, and the pureblood family trees are all connected in some way. Your father was a pureblood, Harry, for all we know, you could be."

Just then, a little first year girl walked tentatively towards them.

"Umm… someone told me to give you this." She handed a note with his name on it to Harry, her head bowed, too afraid to look up.

It was from Ms. Mystery.

"Who gave it to you." He asked.

The girl's face went white, and fled.

Harry lay awake for hours that night. Through a gap in the curtains around his four-poster he watched snow starting to drift past the tower window and wondered…

Could he be a descendant of Salazar Slytherin? He didn't know anything about his father's family, after all. The Dursleys had always forbidden questions about his wizarding relatives.

Quietly, Harry tried to say something in Parseltongue. The words wouldn't come. It seemed he had to be face-to-face with a snake to do it.

But I'm in Gryffindor, Harry thought. The Sorting Hat wouldn't have put me in here if I had Slytherin blood…

Ah, said a nasty little voice in his brain, but the Sorting Hat wanted to put you in Slytherin, don't you remember?

Harry turned over. He'd see Justin the next day in Herbology and he'd explain that he'd been calling the snake off, not egging it on, which (he thought angrily, pummeling his pillow) any fool should have realized. He would ask Ms. Mystery what all this was about, and he would hopefully get some answers. She knew a lot of things about Hogwarts.

* * *

By the next day, rumors that Potter was Slytherin's heir was flying all round Hogwarts, and the quartet watched in amusement as people started to avoid eye-contact or even staying in the same vicinity as Potter.

The snow that had begun in the night had turned into a blizzard so thick that the last Herbology lesson of the term was canceled: Professor Sprout wanted to fit socks and scarves on the Mandrakes, a tricky operation she would entrust to no one else, now that it was so important for the Mandrakes to grow quickly and revive Mrs. Norris and Colin Creevey.

Hermione was studying in the library when she saw Potter walking in, straight to where the Hufflepuffs were, crowded and studying in a corner of the library. But as he got nearer, something they must have been talking about made him stop in his tracks, hidden in the invisibility section.

Hermione smirked a bit, before discretely packing her things and then, after checking that no one was looking her way, cast a disillusionment charm upon herself, and then moving to stand silently in the same section as Potter, albeit a few feet away.

"So anyway," a stout boy was saying, "I told Justin to hide up in our dormitory. I mean to say, if Potter's marked him down as his next victim, it's best if he keeps a low profile for a while. Of course, Justin's been waiting for something like this to happen ever since he let slip to Potter he was Muggle-born. Justin actually told him he'd been down for Eton. That's not the kind of thing you bandy about with Slytherin's heir on the loose, is it?"

"You definitely think it is Potter, then, Ernie?" said a girl with blonde pigtails anxiously.

"Hannah," said the stout boy solemnly, "he's a Parselmouth. Everyone knows that's the mark of a Dark wizard. Have you ever heard of a decent one who could talk to snakes? They called Slytherin himself Serpent-tongue."

There was some heavy murmuring at this, and Ernie went on, "Remember what was written on the wall? Enemies of the Heir, Beware. Potter had some sort of run-in with Filch. Next thing we know, Flich's cat's attacked. That first year, Creevey, was annoying Potter at the Quidditch match, taking pictures of him while he was lying in the mud. Next thing we know — Creevey's been attacked."

"He always seems so nice, though," said Hannah uncertainly, "and, well, he's the one who made You-Know-Who disappear. He can't be all bad, can he?"

Ernie lowered his voice mysteriously, the Hufflepuffs bent closer, and Potter edged nearer so that he could catch Ernie's words.

"No one knows how he survived that attack by You-Know-Who. I mean to say, he was only a baby when it happened. He should have been blasted into smithereens. Only a really powerful Dark wizard could have survived a curse like that." He dropped his voice until it was barely more than a whisper, and said, "That's probably why You- Know-Who wanted to kill him in the first place. Didn't want another Dark Lord competing with him. I wonder what other powers Potter's been hiding?"

Hermione muffled a snort as she heard the last sentence. _Honestly._

Potter, however, seemed as if he couldn't stand it any longer. Clearing his throat loudly, he stepped out from behind the bookshelves. The sight was actually quite funny. Every one of the Hufflepuffs looked as though they had been Petrified by the sight of him, and the color was draining out of Ernie's face.

"Hello," said Harry. "I'm looking for Justin Finch-Fletchley."

The Hufflepuffs' worst fears had clearly been confirmed. They all looked fearfully at Ernie.

"What do you want with him?" said Ernie in a quavering voice.

"I wanted to tell him what really happened with that snake at the Dueling Club," said Harry.

 _Well, isn't that Grifinddorish of him._ Hermione thought, hiding a smirk.

Ernie bit his white lips and then, taking a deep breath, said, "We were all there. We saw what happened."

"Then you noticed that after I spoke to it, the snake backed off?" said Harry.

"All I saw," said Ernie stubbornly, though he was trembling as he spoke, "was you speaking Parseltongue and chasing the snake toward Justin."

"I didn't chase it at him!" Harry said, his voice shaking with anger. "It didn't even touch him!"

"It was a very near miss," said Ernie. "And in case you're getting ideas," he added hastily, "I might tell you that you can trace my family back through nine generations of witches and warlocks and my blood's as pure as anyone's, so —"

"- I don't care what sort of blood you've got!" said Harry fiercely. "Why would I want to attack Muggle-borns?"

"I've heard you hate those Muggles you live with," said Ernie swiftly.

"It's not possible to live with the Dursleys and not hate them," said Harry. "I'd like to see you try it."

And with that, he burst out of the library, oblivious to the outraged shouts of Madame Pince behind him.

* * *

The meeting with Ms. Mystery was scheduled that night.

Harry, Ron and Neville met her at exactly six o'clock at their usual secluded corner of the library, where he, with Ron and Neville adding the pieces he'd left off, told her all the strange things that had happened from the start of year.

She assured him, telling him not to worry, and that she would look into it.

He believed her, leaving feeling much calmer than he had when arriving. Ms. Mystery was someone that he could trust, she would help him.

Little did Harry know that earning his trust was just what Hermione wanted, planting an unknowing spy in the dead centre of the light.

* * *

Hermione spend the rest of the free period in the library, devouring every book she could find about dark creatures. It was in _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ , a book on magical creatures by Newt Scamander, that she found the answer at last.

 _"Of the many fearsome beasts and monsters that roam our land, there is none more curious or more deadly than the Basilisk, known also as the King of Serpents. This snake, which may reach gigantic size and live many hundreds of years, is born from a chicken's egg, hatched beneath a toad. Its methods of killing are most wondrous, for aside from its deadly and venomous fangs, the Basilisk has a murderous stare, and all who are fixed with the beam of its eye shall suffer instant death. Spiders flee before the Basilisk, for it is their mortal enemy, and the Basilisk flees only from the crowing of the rooster, which is fatal to it."_

Something in Hermione's brain clicked. Of course. It makes sense. What other creature would Salazar Slytherin choose as the guardian of the Chamber of Secrets other than Slytherin's emblem? That's why Potter's been able to hear voices that no one else could, because Potter was a parseltongue. And as for hearing it come from the walls, why, the Basilisk must be travelling by pipes! How else would a snake that size be able to travel around Hogwarts without detection? And as for the looking the Basilisk in the eye, well, no one did look it in the eye, did they? Creevey saw it through his camera. The basilisk burned up all the film inside it, but he just got Petrified. Finch-Flechy must have seen the basilisk through Nearly Headless Nick, and the ghost got the full blast of it, but he couldn't die again, so he too just got petrified. And as for Mrs. Norris…

Hermione thought hard, picturing the scene on the night of Halloween.

The water, that was it. The flood from Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. Mrs. Norris only saw the reflection of the basilisk.

Excitement roiled up inside Hermione. She had solved it. It was all so simple, so clear. The entrance to the chamber must be in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. She was the girl who had been killed, fifty years ago, and if Hermione had checked the year book correctly, the Dark Lord had also been at Hogwarts at that time. So it must have been he who opened it, and then gotten someone framed for it. But who? Hermione put that thought away for later thinking.

Now it was important to get all the dots together. So the diary Lord Malfoy gave to Ginevra Weasley must have been something dark or cursed, in order for the Dark Lord to control her. She was the one who had opened the chamber unknowingly. That was why she'd been so pale of late.

Hermione let a small smirk graze her features. She would have to ask the Dark Lord about this herself.

* * *

 **I'll be updating twice a month, as I'm quite busy now, with school starting and working on a new fic as well as revising this one. I hope you can understand. Love you all!**

 **~ Jas**


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